


A Bittersweet Brew

by nabikitendos



Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Family Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, Trans Man Ranma Saotome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nabikitendos/pseuds/nabikitendos
Summary: With the dojo failing and the Saotome's falling into debt, Ranma has to wise up and work at the local coffee shop to support his family on top of training hard for the next martial arts tournament. With school, clubs, and the recent loss of someone dear to her, Akane feels like she's being swallowed whole. Luckily, she has her favorite coffee shop to escape to.





	A Bittersweet Brew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a rewrite bc i wasn't happy with the old version. hope you enjoy. thanks to inklesspen for editing <3

Ranma Saotome had never worked a day in his life.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He’d been working for his father, helping train students at the family dojo since he was 14. Though students at the Saotome School of Anything Goes Martial Arts had always been few and far between, so he didn’t have to work particularly hard at that. He did help his mom around the house though, that had to count a little.

All in all, Ranma never worked very hard, not even in school. He was never really interested in it. He did well enough, mostly because his mother wouldn’t let him train unless he was passing his classes, but he never actually applied himself hard enough to want to go any further in his education. His interest was completely invested in martial arts, and if he was gonna be interested in anything, he sure as hell better be the best at it.

His father, Genma, seemed to agree with him, spending most of his own focus on training Ranma. Genma’s training, however, was a little unorthodox. Training, to Genma, partially meant stealing Ranma’s dinner when he wasn’t looking to teach him to be vigilant, throwing him across the room to teach him how to land on his feet, ect. Ranma hated it, but as strange as the techniques were, they worked, so Ranma dealt with it. Nodoka, his mother, hated the way he was being taught (but she didn’t want Ranma to learn the art at all, if she was being honest). She made Genma go easier on “their dear child,” something neither Genma nor Ranma was very thrilled about at all.

While Ranma could understand where she was coming from, he didn’t like being seen as some delicate flower to anyone, much less his own mother, even if he did hate the training. And Genma simply didn’t know how else to teach him, as his way was how he had learned himself. So in order to train the same as they were before, they went on “camping trips” as often as possible over the years to learn and practice and spar more fiercely.

Ranma wanted to be the best, and he would do anything to get there. Even if it meant lying to his mom about that harsh practices that he did with his father. Which he did. A lot. He comforted himself by saying it wasn’t exactly lying, he just wasn’t telling everything about their camping trips, and his mom didn’t really ask too many questions outside of “Did you have fun?” and “What did you do?” But still, it wasn’t the best feeling having to keep a secret. He’d get over it, he thought to himself.

Either way, the training trips and the practice he did by himself at the family dojo did help him become better and better. In the competitions Genma had Ranma sign up for, he always ranked high, but never well enough to place first, as his father liked to remind him about. In fact, as they made their trek out of the forest and towards civilization, Genma reminded him about the failure again.

“You’re sloppy, kid. You’ll never reach first with form like that,” Genma said as he marched towards the rest stop.

“You need to do better. Do you want to bring shame towards your father? Your school?” he said as they rode the bus back to the city.

“You better work your ass off before the next tournament.” He finished his rant as they approached their house.

Ranma stopped walking and broke his silence. “Pop, I always work my ass off, and the competition isn’t until 6 months from now.”

Genma kept his pace. “That doesn’t mean you should slack on your practice.”

“I never slack.” Ranma rolled his eyes.

“Still, I want you to train until you feel your limbs will fall off. You need perfect form if you wanna get first place. We need that prize money. That’s 100,000 yen on the line!”

“I know, pop.” Ranma didn’t really care for the prize money. He knew he’d never get to see a single coin of it since his parents already planned to use it for the bills and utilities. He just wanted, no, needed to be first. He had to prove to himself that he was the best, a man among men and nothing less.

“Come on, your mother is waiting.” Genma put his hand on the door and paused. “Remember, tell your mother nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” Genma opened the door to the house and the two stepped in. Ranma put down his pack and slipped out of his hiking boots to look for his mom. Ranma sighed. He didn’t care much about keeping this secret from his mom, but he was fairly used to it by now. Besides, he had another secret that neither of his parents knew.

He found her in the dining room setting the table.

“Hey, mom,” Ranma said.

Nodoka looked up. “Oh, Yoiko! You and your father are back just in time. Clean up for dinner and come tell me about your trip.”

They didn’t know that Ranma was a man.

 

Dinner was brief, as Ranma and Genma inhaled their food like they hadn’t eaten in a year. Nodoka usually chastised them for eating so fast, particularly Ranma as it “wasn’t ladylike”; there was no scolding tonight, however. She didn’t ask any questions about the trip, either. Instead she ate slowly and said nothing, making for a very tense meal.

Once they all finished, Nodoka turned to her “daughter” and said, “Yoiko, be a dear and clear and wash the dishes for me while I speak with your father.”

Ranma grabbed the few bowls that were on the kotatsu and hauled ass into the kitchen. He knew by now that when his mom told him to leave to “speak with” his pop it meant an argument was gonna break out and he wasn’t too keen on being present for them. So he did as he was told and washed the dishes. He tried doing the menial task as quickly as he could, mainly so he could go to bed and rest his bones for tomorrow, partly so he could get away from his parents.

Unfortunately, he didn’t finish fast enough as he could hear his parents’ voices getting louder. He huffed as he put the last dish on the drying rack and strolled to his bedroom down the hall, or he would have had he not heard his mother say his dead name, stopping him dead in his tracks. Being the nosy type, Ranma decided to sneak his way over and lean against the wall next to the doorway to the dining room, out of sight from his parents. He couldn’t catch what his mom was just saying, but managed to get the rest of her talking.

“-don’t want her to be working on her martial arts so much, Genma!”

His pop tried speaking up. “Now, dear-”

“I’m not done yet. I understand the good martial arts can do in protecting herself, but it’s not ladylike! She’s not in high school anymore and hasn’t been for two years now! What has she been doing that’s productive?”

“What are you talking about? She’s been teaching in the dojo with me!”

“That isn’t enough and you know it, Genma!” Nodoka was shouting now. “She’s been so lazy. What is she going to do with her life?” Ranma scowled at that. He’d been working very hard on the art. He was supposed to carry on the school, and the dojo after all.

His father loudly echoed his thought. “She’s the heir to the school, Nodoka.”

“And how is she going to do that without a husband?” Ranma could almost see the dark look on his mom’s face. She rarely used that specific look on anyone, and it scared him just thinking about it. He almost felt bad for his old man. Nodoka continued, “How are we going to get another heir if she isn’t married.”

Ranma shuddered briefly at the thought of having some guy’s kids, but froze completely at his mom’s next words.

“She needs bridal training.”

He blanched. _Bridal training?! What century was this?!_

Genma seemed to have a similar thought. “Yoiko does not need bridal training! She’s the one carrying on the knowledge of the family art!” He yelled.

Nodoka shouted back. “Oh, what good is the art now? We haven’t had a steady student in months, and we’re almost drowning in debt!” Ranma could hear his mom choke on her words and his heart clenched as she continued. “We’re barely able to get any food on the table anymore! You can’t expect me to think you can make things better by teaching our daughter to fight.”

“Nodoka, this next competition has a prize of 100,000 yen! Things will be much better once we win.” Genma tried to soothe his wife to little avail.

“You mean if you win.” Nodoka’s voice still sounded sad, if not a little spiteful. Ranma was glad he couldn’t see the look on her face. “How long until this competition, 6 months? That’s too long to wait. We need to at least set up Yoiko to meet a few men.”

“And distract her from her practice? Absolutely not.”

“Well then what do you suppose we do?”

Ranma, not about to let parents make up decisions for him, stood up from the ground, ready to enter the dining room to confront them, but paused at Genma’s next words.

“How about a wager?”

A pause.

“What kind of wager?” Nodoka asked slowly.

“After the tournament, if Yoiko wins, and she WILL win, she continues to learn teaching at the dojo and learning the art with me.” Ranma grew angrier listening to the words fall out of his father’s mouth.

“And if she doesn’t win?” His mother’s interest was piqued.

“Then she begins bridal training and I stop teaching her for good.”

Nodoka didn’t hesitate. “Deal!”

Ranma stood next to the entryway of the dining room, absolutely fuming. He couldn’t believe the words that came out of his parent’s mouths. Well maybe he could believe Genma, but his own mother? He stormed to his room, not bothering to listen to the rest of their conversation and not caring if they noticed his presence (they didn’t). How dare they use him as a tool for their argument! How dare they make his decisions for him! He could feel himself burning with rage. So much so he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He ended up just pacing his bedroom floor, trying to figure out how to react and make himself think clearly.

He wanted to scream at his parents for doing this, but he knew that obviously would not go over well. Ranma ran his fingers through his dark fringe. How the hell was he gonna get out of this? He knew he could win the next tournament, but he also knew that there was no guarantee he would. Ranma tried thinking back on his parents’ talk to see if he could think of anything to keep him from doing bridal training in case he did lose, but he was still pissed to no end that he couldn’t remember their exact words. And, well, his memory was never really the best.

He remembered his mom calling him lazy, but he resented that. Sure he didn’t do house work very often, outside of his own laundry, but she never complained before about not having the help. He was learning his father’s craft; taking over the family business. That wasn’t being lazy in his eyes.

The more he thought, however, the guiltier he felt. His mom did also mention having trouble paying bills, and she was right. They weren’t getting a lot of long-term students anymore, and any new students were few and far between. He groaned and stopped his pacing as it all clicked in his mind and his rage subsided. He knew they were struggling, but he didn’t think it was to such a big extent. No wonder his pop wanted to train harder for this tournament. He guessed his mom wanted him married off to some guy ASAP so someone in the family could have some financial security.

He collapsed on his bed and played with his hair, tied in a tight braid to stay out of the way. He knew he had to do something, but as to what he wasn’t sure. His bones ached from the training trip and the hike home and his eyes grew heavy. Whatever he needed to do, he would figure it out in the morning.

 

Ranma woke to the sound of his phone blaring his ringtone and groaned in frustration. He turned his head towards the window and saw that the sun had just barely broke the horizon. Who the hell was calling him this early in the morning? He crawled out from his futon over to his desk where his phone rested and answered without looking at who was calling to stop the ringing.

“What do ya want?!”

“Where the hell are you, Saotome?!”

Ranma rubbed the remaining sleep out of his eyes. “Ryoga?”

“Who else would it be?” He sounded pissed. “Now can you hurry up and get down here? I’m supposed to clock in in half an hour!”

“Shoot, it’s Monday? I’ll be there in 5!” Ranma hung up the phone without saying goodbye and rushed to put on his clothes. He struggled with finding his binder, not remembering where he hid it and ended up throwing most of his clothing (a very jarring mix of feminine clothing his mom gave him and the more prefered masculine clothes he got from thrift shops and friends hand-me-downs) on the floor. Once he found his black binder, he rushed to finish getting dressed. He grabbed his sneakers from the closet floor and hopped down the hallway to the front door while pulling on his shoes.

_He’s gonna kill me._

Ranma and Ryoga had lived in the same neighborhood since the latter moved in when he was in junior high. The two were a very odd pair, simply put, as Ryoga only seemed to begrudgingly put up with his friend, but always relied on Ranma to lead him to school or work without getting lost, but Ranma knew he was considered a good friend.

Though if he was any later, he thought as he turned the corner to his friend’s street, he’d probably curbstomp him. As Ranma raced down to the end of the road, he could see Ryoga waiting for him in jeans and a white t-shirt, leaning on the little gate that surrounded his yard. He could also see the glare fixated on his face as he got closer.

Ryoga stood up straight. “It’s about time.”

“Hey, count yourself lucky I’m even walking you to work at all,” Ranma replied. He looked over the little gate to see Ryoga’s dog lying down near the border. “Hi Shirokuro!” he cooed and she started wagging her tail at him.

Ryoga rolled his eyes. “Would you quit dawdling, I’m gonna be late.”

“Right.” Ranma focused, grabbed his friend’s arm, and started running. “Let’s go!”

Ryoga had the worst sense of direction out of anyone that Ranma had ever met. No matter how clear the directions or how many times he went to the same place over and over again, he just could not figure out how to get where he wants to go. Apparently, his parents were the same way. Which led to someone, usually Ranma, having to lead him everywhere, especially work, much to his chagrin.

The walk to the construction site, where Ryoga had been working since they graduated high school, was quiet. Usually the two would talk about their shared interest in martial arts; their different training regimens, how they could improve and such. But Ranma had other things on his mind. As he walked the path he knew on automatic, the memories of last night raced through his head. He was still angry at his parents for deciding his future for him, and making a bet on it of all things, but that feeling was overwhelmed by the massive guilt that weighed on his shoulders. Ranma let out a sigh. He still needed to figure out something to help his mother.

Ranma got jostled out of his thoughts by a shove coming from his companion.

“The hell, Ryoga!?” The shorter man turned, ready to give his friend a black eye.

Said friend didn’t seem to care when a fist came flying towards his face, as he just caught it in his hand without even changing his nonplussed expression. “You are the world’s worst listener. I’ve been talking for 5 minutes and you haven’t said a thing. Usually you’re the one talking my ear off.”

Ranma yanked his fist from Ryoga’s grasp and rubbed at his face as he started walking again. “Just tired, I guess,” he mumbled.

Ryoga rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. Considering how much you sleep, I’m sure that’s it.” He dropped his sarcasm and said, “What’s bothering you?”

No answer. Ranma wasn’t sure if he could talk about his family issues to his friend or if he even wanted to talk about them, but he still didn’t know what to do about it. Ranma sighed again and decided after a moment that if anyone could help him it’d probably be Ryoga.

“Did you know my family’s in debt?”

“Kind of.”

“What? How?” Ranma sounded bewildered.

Ryoga shrugged. “I mean I didn’t know for sure, but it’s kinda obvious. You barely have any students at the dojo, you’re always crashing at Ukyo’s or Shampoo’s for food-“

“They always invite me for dinner!” Ranma defended.

“Because they know you barely have food at home. And you’re always taking my, Hiroshi, and Daisuke’s old clothes for yourself.”

“Yeah, ‘cause my mom won’t by me men’s clothing.”

“And because you can’t afford to buy new clothes.” Ryoga finished. “Why are you bringing it up anyways? I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t.” Another hesitant pause. “My parents made a stupid bet sayin’ that if I don’t win the next martial arts tournament, I have to start“—Ranma gagged overdramatically—“bridal training.”

Ryoga stopped walking. “You’re joking.”

Ranma shook his head miserably. Rambunctious laughter pulled Ranma out of his self-pity and he swiveled his head back around and glared at his new-found enemy, who had his head thrown back in his cackling. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re getting a kick out of this!”

“I’m sorry,” Ryoga started, coming down from his high. “It’s just hard to image you doing _bridal training_.” To his credit, he tried to hold his laughter back this time.

“Yeah, well it might just happen now.” Ranma started walking ahead while Ryoga was hunched over wiping tears out of his eyes. “If I don’t win, it’s ‘goodbye’ martial arts and ‘hello’ future husband.”

Ryoga stopped giggling and jogged to keep stride. “Wait, you parents want you to stop training? You’re the heir to the school! That’s insane!”

“Pops doesn’t, my mom does. She still sees it as being ‘unladylike,’” he said with air quotes. “I think she wants me to marry some rich guy or something for financial security. I just wish I knew what to do to help out and prevent that from happening,” Ranma mumbled.

Ryoga would have continued if they hadn’t just reached the construction site. The place being built was supposed to be a set of condos, but had been under construction since they were in their last year of high school. Ranma doubted it would ever get finished.

“Look,” Ryoga started as he walked off to the little portable building to clock in. “I gotta start working, but we’ll keep talking later.”

Ranma nodded and turned leave while he waved goodbye, when the idea struck him. “RYOGA!”

That man jumped as his name was shouted and turned to his friend.

Ranma was suddenly beaming and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Catch a ride home with someone else, I’m gonna be busy.” He turned away again and started running.

“Doing what?” Ryoga yelled after him.

“Job hunting!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love y'all


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